


A Love So Alien

by facade



Category: Football RPF
Genre: 98 Percent Sure Of It, Alien Character(s), Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, An Evolved Human Alien Thing, Environmentalism, He Was Too Beautiful To Distort, He's a Human-y Alien Though, I Simply Like The Word Alien, Isn't All Writing Freeform?, Just Say The Word, Laughing Because My Ridiculous Tags Saved, M/M, No There's Enslaved Forms, Not Quite Human Thing Didn't Sound Right, One Shot, One Shot For You With Love, Originally Posted: 2014-03-23, This Fic Is Alien, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr request, We're Alien, What The Hell Is Alien - Freeform, You're Alien, Your Face Is Alien, alien - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1890288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facade/pseuds/facade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tumblr request from Samuel :) I hope you like it? Prompt: Cristiano is a member of an alien race / Sergio is Sergio [not]. The two cannot be together for obvious reasons...<br/>-----<br/><em>Conflicted by the virus, he stayed. Conflicted, the Earth remained. Conflicted, he watched as the virus was passed on from one generation to the next; he grew to love it and all of its flaws. That's why he could stay no longer.</em><br/>-----<br/>Referenced Other Planet: Exire<br/>Alien Race: Satari</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Love So Alien

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SamUYell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamUYell/gifts).



He was pure addiction and Sergio knew that he had fallen prey to his clutches, appearing as nothing more than some addict bent on his knees begging and pleading for just one more hit, one more taste… The Spaniard closed his eyes tightly and squeezed the last of his tears out of their ducts, wrapping his arms tightly around the strong thighs of the other as he did so. He knew that this, that they were a bad idea after he had first heard the news, knew that nothing but pain and heartache would ever become of this, that the idea and the concept of “them” and “forever” would never take form as a reality, would forever remain as abstract as his feelings for the other… He was too good to be true, too perfect to ever stay. “Please just, just don’t leave yet. Just, just stay a little longer.” He knew he sounded pathetic to the other, weak, but he was too distraught to care.

Cristiano sighed as he reached down to help the man off of his knees, his breathy chuckle dripped with melancholy as he pried the arms of the Spaniard off of his thighs. He hated seeing Sergio like this, hated seeing such a strong person reduced to desperation and tear stained cheeks but this, this was simply the way that things had to be. Sometimes, sometimes he just wanted to shake the man who claimed to be from a place called Seville, remind him of how fortunate they were to have even shared the time that they had. He wanted to remind the man with the bright eyes and the brighter smile, the one that made his heart beat in a way it never had before, that he wasn’t even supposed to be here, not for this long at least, but something had happened...

> He was simply supposed to survey the area but, instead of forests and rivers, he had found valleys of concrete, towers of glass, waters as black as the night; he had cringed as the stench of decay and waste pervaded his senses in the place of what was once the sweet aroma of flowers and soil... It had pulled at his heartstrings, to see the Earth in such a disposition, as nothing more than gift wrapped waste, as he could easily recall a time when this very planet was painted green as far as the eyes could see, with trees that reached so high they seemed to be kissing the furthest reaches of the bluest sky he had ever seen, and the rivers, the rivers of water had ran as clear as the eyes of the children of Exire. He had reported back home immediately, to his father, had told him of the virus he had seen the Earth suffering from, and had returned instantly with the order to neutralize the virus before it spread beyond the blue planet.

...but something had happened. He peered into the brown eyes of the man that now stood before him, cradling his face within the palms of his hands. Sergio had happened. As a Satari, he was raised to see things for their strength and only for their strength but Sergio, Sergio had showed him the beauty in weakness, the beauty in the things he had so often regarded as frail, the beauty within the virus. Sergio had showed him all of the beautiful things humans could do: some could heal, some could create, some educated… They were all capable of a fragile yet beautiful thing called love, of caring, of kindness, of compassion. Conflicted by the virus, he stayed. Conflicted, the Earth remained. Conflicted, he watched as the virus was passed on from one generation of humans to the next; he grew to love it and all of its flaws. That's why he could stay no longer.

“I’m not asking for forever,” Sergio whispered as he slowly turned to kiss the palm of the hand resting on his right cheek. “I know forever is not an option and I know it will never be.” A single tear slowly trickled beyond his lashes and came to rest in the corner of his lips. His own palms were sweaty and he could feel himself shaking, afraid that they would meet their end sooner than he had prepared himself for. He felt Cristiano kiss away the single tear resting on the corner of his lips before he felt the warm breath and the lips of the Satari ghosting over his own, hesitantly, nervously. “I just want a few more moments. That’s all I’m asking for,” Sergio finished as he closed the small space between them, turning the question into a soft demand.

> The man didn’t seem to know who he was, a pretty clear indication that the man certainly wasn’t from Spain (probably an American, he supposed) and that was enough for him to like him. He loved his fans, sure, but it was a nice change to encounter a person who wanted to talk about something other than football, even if he was listening to the man ramble on and on about the environment. He had planted a tree for Greenpeace once and he had trees in his yard… no matter, there was something fascinating about this man and he wanted nothing more than to have the opportunity to get to know him better. He told him about his career, surprised when the man had told him he had “never heard of such a thing, a man playing games to make a living”, but was even more surprised when his newest acquaintance ripped a hole into the back of Iker’s net as soon as Sergio had finished explaining free kicks to him. Lying in the middle of the legendary pitch of the Bernabeau, satisfied that they had 'broken in' undected, he felt himself trip, "...and you call yourself a defender? What do you defend? I hope nothing important. You seem to be quite weak, actually", falling for the strange man lying beside him instantly: he was aware, adaptable, funny, intelligent… Perfect.

No matter how much time he had spent with them, Cristiano never could understand the way of the humans: how they gave of themselves so freely, expecting only three little words in return, had baffled him and their ability to manipulate or persuade anyone they came into contact with by using simple fluctuations of their voices or small muscle adjustments on their faces was astonishing. They weren’t strong physically, not by any means, but things such as this - soft lips gently lapping over his as a tongue ran slowly across his bottom lip - would somehow render even the strongest of the Satari defenseless. Their touch, so foreign, so alien... That’s why he couldn’t stay. A true Satari would submit to nothing, to no one, in spite of the odds, in spite of their physical reactions. As a prince of Satari he, he simply could not stay.

Sergio pressed firmly on the strong chest of the other, softly smiling as Cristiano gave way to the push and fell onto the soft cushions of his living room sofa. He had always known that Cristiano was stronger than him in nearly every way, why the Satari yielded to him was no longer a question; Cristiano wasn’t one for ‘feelings’ or ‘emotions’ [by default] but Sergio had seen the Satari’s feelings often, though he was certain that the prince from some other world was completely oblivious to the way he showed them. The Spaniard found the eyes of the other man just before he felt himself being pulled down on top of him. He wanted to study every detail of the prince’s face, wanted to engrave every piece of him in his memory: the sharp rise of his cheekbones, the point of his nose, the thickness of his black hair but time, time was not his ally. He placed a long and gentle kiss on the lips of the Satari as he straddled him and began to slowly undress. He deepened the kiss as Cristiano ran his fingers gently over his now bare chest, sighing into the mouth of the prince as he felt each of his muscles being traced, the fingers of the other rising and falling with each valley, each crevice.

Cristiano threw his head back, enjoying the sensations of the Spaniard on top of him, the pleasure accompanying the rolls of the other’s hips... Fingers soon threaded through his hair, grasping firmly at his roots as he soon felt Sergio pulling his gaze back to him. Smiling softly, the Spaniard placed a brief yet meaningful kiss on his neck just before Cristiano felt a pillow being placed behind him in support. Another thing he never understood about humans - about Sergio - his desire to look into his eyes when they were intimate; he didn’t mind it, not by any means, he had simply always wondered what it was the Spanish man was searching for... He had never expected find something looking back at him, though. He didn't know what it was he had found in those Spanish eyes that evening but he felt himself come undone at the sight of it. He felt bound to Sergio by it, was questioning what strength truly was because of it, was questioning his resolve and his ability, his purpose because of it. If a Satari could be brought to tremble in such a way, could be brought to mumble meaningless syllables and incoherent babbling because of something twinkling within human eyes...? He couldn't find the strength in the blurred images. He could find neither the strength nor the sense in the distorted thoughts he was experiencing. He understood, only now, why his ancient ancestors had abandoned the traditional form of reproduction - there was a weakness in it, in this, a body colliding with another... but Sergio had showed him the beauty in weakness, the sense in senselessness. It was only then had he realized that this virus had consumed him, had spread throughout his veins, intoxicated him, impaired his thoughts and blurred his vision. He simply could not stay a moment longer. "I must go now but... 

_I think I love you.”_

* * *

 

Sergio’s eyes flew open as [what seemed to be] warm breath lingered over the shell of his ear, as the five words reverberated freshly within his mind. He sat up in his bed, breathing heavily as the dream-like memory of Cristiano fled him and as his reality set in. It had been several months since the day Cristiano had left but he could still feel him, his presence, watching over him from some celestial body held deep within the universe. The Spaniard wiped a stray tear from his eye before he placed a single hand on the side of the bed that had once belonged to Cristiano to rest, frowning as he found the sheets and pillows warm. Glancing around the room and finding his things undisturbed, he leaned down and deeply inhaled, taking in the scent of the pillow beside him, sighing as the thick fragrances of foreign blossoms and foreign soil reached and filtered through his nostrils.


End file.
